“Diana,” Chris says, looking up from his work. He drops the sandpaper and removes his safety goggles. There’s an indentation around his eyes, a bruise left by the goggles, and Diana stuffs her hands in her pockets to avoid running her fingers along those marks.
“How are you? The kids?” Chris’s unshaven chin scrapes against her skin as he kisses her cheek, and all she can think about is how he smells like sawdust.
“Duncan and Phoebe?”
“Yes, Duncan and Phoebe,” Chris says, laughing. “You have other kids I haven’t met?”
Diana blushes, embarrassed by her attraction to Chris. “They’re okay.” Maybe in the past she was reserved with Chris since their connection was through Tom, not independent of him. She shared only the positive side of her life, the same way she did with her family. She doesn’t want to pretend anymore. “We’re all still hurting.”
Chris’s voice quiets. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Me either.”
He drags two wooden stools across the concrete floor. He sits on one and gestures for Diana to take the other. “While I’m glad you came for a visit, I wish you’d brought them.”
“Next time,” Diana says, climbing onto the stool as its uneven legs rock. “What are you making?”
“An Adirondack chair for my porch.”
“Only one?”
“I only need one,” Chris says, shrugging. “Duncan still playing basketball?”
“You can’t get the ball out of his hands. Want to see him in action?”
She and Chris hunch over her phone as she shares a grainy clip of Duncan practicing layups on the court across the street from their house.
“He’s got good form,” Chris observes.
“Definitely inherited from Tom.”
“There was this game when we were in the tenth grade; Tom made a basket right before the buzzer.” Chris grins. “I remember it all: the way the ball flew through the air, the screams when it made it through the net, the excitement when everyone realized we’d won. The team hoisted Tom on their shoulders and carried him around the gym, yelling his name. It was amazing.”
“I’ve heard that story before,” Diana says, thankful the memory Chris shared isn’t a surprise. “But I like hearing it again.”
Chris’s phone beeps. “My mother,” he says, checking the screen, “is asking if you’ve arrived. We should probably get to their house, or I’ll never hear the end of how I made you late for dinner.”
Diana hops off the stool. “You don’t mind I’m staying with them? They have more room, and I thought it would be easier.”
“No problem.” Chris lifts his coat from a hook by the door and turns off the overhead light as they step outside. “My mom’s a better cook anyway.”
Six cars are parked in front of Uncle Brian and Aunt Teresa’s when Diana follows Chris’s truck up the driveway. He meets her as she exits her car. “Half of Hamilton must be here tonight,” he jokes. “My mother does not shy away from a chance to entertain.”
Diana takes a bouquet of lilies for Teresa from the trunk. She also has a bottle of bourbon for Brian. Chris suggested it when she texted him for gift ideas.
“She told me they had dinner plans when we talked about me coming up this weekend,” Diana says, as she shuts the trunk. “Glad I stopped at your place first, though. It gave me a quieter arrival.”
An early-April snowfall crunches underfoot as Diana and Chris walk to the house. “What’s it like to be here?” Chris asks.
“Strange,” she whispers. “I wish Tom was with me. Then again, I wish that every day.”
Aunt Teresa stands in the doorway. Before any hellos are shared, she hugs Diana. The lilies crush between them, their sickly-sweet smell filling Diana’s nose. With her gray hair piled on her head, Teresa barely comes up to Diana’s chin. The embrace goes on longer than expected, and Diana understands Teresa is hugging Tom, too.
When Teresa eventually lets go, Diana hands Tom’s aunt the flowers. “Thank you for having me.”
“Lilies, my favorite.” Aunt Teresa dips her face into the fragrant blossoms, and her hazel eyes, so similar to Chris’s, shine. “Come,” she says. “Brian wants to say hello.” Chris and Diana pile their coats on an overstuffed rack in the corner and follow her down the hall.
The aromatic scents of cumin and cayenne greet them in the warm kitchen. Two women chat by the table, as one slices red peppers and the other pours juice for a group of waiting children. Aunt Teresa introduces Diana to her guests and moves into the dining room, where she makes room amid the cutlery and cloth napkins for Diana’s lilies. Chris grabs a beer from a cooler in the corner.
